


And Did You Miss Me Looking For Yourself Out There?

by mitochondrials



Series: Bee-I-en-gee-O 2k16 [4]
Category: Avengers Assemble (Cartoon), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Community: cap_ironman, Gen, M/M, Temporary Character Death, minor mention of other avengers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-25
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-07-26 15:58:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7580707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mitochondrials/pseuds/mitochondrials
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hela is staring at him, running her finger along the rim of one of his mother’s teacups. “A mind such as yours is a rarity, it’s true. Although it’s nothing to the muscle I wish you’d had. What to do I wondered? I figured giving you what you wanted meant you’d desist you’re pestering.”</p>
<p>“Gave me what I wanted?” He asks bitterly, unimpressed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Did You Miss Me Looking For Yourself Out There?

**Author's Note:**

> Bingo Square N-2: Temporary Character Death
> 
> The title is a slightly shortened version of the lyrics, " _And did you miss me while you were looking for yourself out there?_ ", from the song, [Drops of Jupiter](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7Xf-Lesrkuc).  
> 

The first thing Tony hears is the gentle melody of the piano. He must have fallen asleep on the couch again, he figures, untangling his arms from under him, grunting.

“Tony?” Maria asks, grazing her fingers across his forehead. It’s not her playing this time--perhaps Jarvis, or Ana. The tune is something simple and soothing, blending with the last amber tones of twilight through the large open window facing the gardens, leaving the room feeling almost otherworldly.

He blinks. “Mmmm, Mom? What are you doing here?”

Maria is sitting next to him on the couch, dressed in a light blue blouse and jeans. Odd. She’d rarely wear anything of the sort, sticking to her tailored suit pants even during that one summer in Disneyland when he was seven, risking Splash Mountain in all its wet glory. Her hair, too, is left down, hanging by her shoulders, when he knows she found it easier to pin it in a bun.

“Mom, wha--,” He pushes himself up, taking in the white leather of the couch. What the hell? Nothing about this is right. “Where am I?”

Maria frowns, placing the back of her hand against his forehead. “You don’t seem like you have a fever. I wondered if you caught something visiting the Hospital the other day.”

“I …” He tried to think back. One moment he was five, being chased down the dining hall by Jarvis, shrieking at the top of his lungs because, smiling so hard his cheeks hurt. Then he was sixteen, watching Ana and his mother digging through the china cabinet because apparently if he was to stay the summer with Rhodey he needed to make sure he at least a decent tea set to share between them. Everything else was blank.

“I’ll have Arsenal prepare you some Elderberry tea.” She says, gently lulling him into the couch.

He hesitantly takes her hand. “No, no I’m good. Not in the mood for tea. Just. You’re in jeans?”

“You promised me a walk through the park, remember? ” She says, letting him pull her in close. “I’d rather you not be sick, though. We can watch a movie instead and eat some soup. A casual family dinner in front of the t.v.”

He decides to follow Maria to the kitchen, all equally as white, studying her as she pulls out a cutting board, delicately beginning to smash open a glove of garlic. She cooked when Jarvis or Ana weren’t home; simple dishes like tomato soup or Naples Style Sardines. 

That’s right, Jarvis and Ana had were off in Europe on vacation. Arsenal, precious, precious Arsenal like to offer to get the door and carry down the sandwiches he’d make for his mother when she was busy in a meeting with her various affiliates from the Stark Foundation. Not that he’d accept Arsenal getting away without getting rest too, machine or not, which was why Arsenal was enjoying himself strumming the most random of melodies on the piano in the parlor.

“Let me help,” He says, grabbing a large pot down from where they were hanging over the kitchen island. “Add a little olive oil to heat it up, right?”

She nods, “Don’t turn it up too high. Fetch me the chicken from the fridge and rinse it off, if you would. And the broth too.”

“Of course."

\---

He tries to continue messing with the wiring of his latest prosthetic a couple of days later, wrapped loosely in his favourite fleece blanket as Arsenal is analyzing success rates. 

The fogginess comes and goes, along with the sense that nothing is right at all like someone moved all the furniture a few inches to the left when no one was looking. He’s pretty certain a cold, or the flu, or whatever he has couldn’t be the cause of it, but he’d have to admit when it came to basic medical practice he was limited beyond the nervous system.

His mother had been proud of him for switching interest in clean energy and advancing the field of medical technology after he inherited once Howard died. She’d always been apprehensive about his father being continually thrown into the face of danger every time the world decided it was ready for another war.

Tony was changing the world without ever having to suffer breaking his mother's heart. Not after Howard’s death, never again.

“I ordered some of your favourite jelly doughnuts,” Maria says, breaking him from his contraction and setting down the box on the end of the bench, taking a seat.

“Mom,” He sighs, mildly annoyed. “I’m seriously starting to feel better. You didn’t need to cancel your lunch date with Professor Wilfred because of a cold.”

“Oh shut up. I didn’t really need to see him, he’s constantly pressuring me to sign off the copyright to Ana’s pumpkin cake.”

“I thought it was the blueprints for dad’s old personalized pistol.”

“That too.” She waves him off, also placing her sketch pad and paints next to the box of doughnuts. “But it’s more fun torturing you with my presence.”

An uncanny sense of Deja Vu shoots down his spine.

“Okay, say what you will but I’ve definitely never seen you carrying paints before.” He says, ignoring it. “Gotta keep one-upping me?”

“Obviously. I thought I’d give it a go, you’ve practically mastered the piano.”

“Hah,” He grins. He dives for the doughnuts, which are heavenly. Powdered strawberry, his favourite, favourite, favourite. “Are these all jelly? Steve’s gonna be mad we didn’t buy those ridiculous strawberry shortcake doughnuts they’ve got now.”

“Who?” She asks, sticking the end of brush between her lips while she’s pouring out her paints.

“Huh?” He takes a second to realize what he’s said. “He’s an intern in at the lab, I think. Sorry. They bicker like you wouldn’t believe about forgetting each other's snack orders.”

 

\---

Steve is not an intern. He’s almost positive he doesn’t know a Steve, either. But shit, Steve could’ve been a temp, seeing as they don’t stay longer than four months.

He’d hated the thought of being one of those bosses that took the luxury of overlooking even a single employee. They were willing to put time and effort working for him, and they deserved all his respect.

On the off chance he did,--and of course, he did, the frustrating part of him that savours calculating his mistakes reminds himself--why was this one Steve persistently stuck on his brain?

It’s stupid, honestly.

 

\---

He was sketching on his stack of old privacy policy paperwork he drafted earlier that years, listening to idly to the episode of Star Trek his mother was watching in the family room.

“Perhaps a bit top heavy,” Arsenal says, teasing when he spots the clunky bit scribbles and cylinders weaving together the image of a buff robotic man sporting a star in the center of its chest.

Tony snorts. “Yeah. He’s a beefcake, ain’t he? Kinda like him. I saw the star in my head, basically rolled with it.”  

“Interested in a side project?”

“Pfff, I was aiming for him to look more like a person. Afraid squares are all I know.”

“I like the wings on his helmet.”

 

\---

_Howard shifts, pressing his lips together. “Yes, Tony?”_

_“I brought the comic, dad. See, look, look.” Little Tony says no older that four, excitedly pushing the latest Captain America comic into his father’s hand. “You said you knew him?”_

_Howard gives an exasperated sigh, reaching to help Tony sit comfortably in his lap. “Oh, I did. He was the greatest man I ever knew.”_

_“Yeah?”_

_“Oh, Absolutely. He was the truest hero you’ll ever read out of a comic book.”_

_Tony beams, happy his dad’s willing to spend the day with him discuss his favourite of all superheroes there was. “I’m gonna be just like him!”_

_ Howard smiles at that, ruffling his hair. _

He jolts awake in a cold sweat.

 

\---

He catches Maria reading in the garden, rocking forth and back in Ana’s chair by the tulips. “Oh, you’d like to hear this.” She gestures for him to sit on the stool next to her.

“The Secret History of the Pink Carnation.” He reads the title.

“It’s a spy novel.”

He shakes his head. “Nuh-uh. It’s a romance novel, you can’t fool me. It’s not happening, mom.”

“Yes you will, I’m dying to have someone to gush to about with. We watch all your favourite t.v. shows together because Rhodey is busy overseas. I think it’s a little more than fair.”

He blanches.“Yeah, but everything I watch is good. You’d literally be subjecting me to pages of mediocre smut brought about by the author's lame attempt to convince me  these two characters utterly adore each other.”

“More than a little fair. It’s excessively fair. And yet, my son forsakes me.” She says, dramatically, sweeping a hand over her head like she’s in a soap opera.

“Nice try.” He only shakes his head. God how he loved her. He’d couldn’t believe he’d ever see her so carefree, and yet here they were, joking and laughing despite the woes of life keeping steady pace beside them. It was still jarring, even weeks later after his bout of amnesia, like this was all peaceful dream and he’d wake any second now.

And speaking of, “I had this weird dream about dad the other night.” He says. “He held me in his lap, talking comics with me. Specifically, this comic called Captain America. And the weird part was good ole Cap was like a full color, red, white, and blue carbon copy I doodled.”

“I don’t see how’s that weird. It’s probably where you remembered the design in the first place.”

“But mom, it was like super vivid. And there’s no comic called Captain America, I checked and double checked.” That was a fact, too.

“Captain America. Hmm, I’d say you have the makings to write your own, then. He sounds like he’d be a superhero.”

“A super cheesy superhero. His birthday’d be on the Fourth of July, born and raised in Brooklyn, New York; a humble kid believing in fighting bullies and the power of Justice.” The words flowed effortlessly from his mouth before his brain could catch up with him.

What.

“Don't know why I was dreaming specifically about Dad, though. Kinda freaked me out." He's freaked out now.

“Honey, I’m sure it means nothing.”

 

\---

It means everything. The Deja Vu, the mind fogginess, all of it.

It all connects together, because Steve ...Precious, adoring Steve is corroding his brain. His Captain America, refusing to be forgotten.

How could he believe a world without Steve Rogers was a better world? A Happier one?

A world without Steven Grant Rogers is nothing.

But so was ...

He races up the stairs, desperately searching for Maria. The walls are cool against his palm. God, did this feel so, so real. His shirt was scratchy against his skin. The lights burned his eyes when he flipped him on.

His mother … His mother, lounged against the loveseat reading one of her cheesy romance novels with the television on mute; she was right there, vivid and clear as day. She was real.

She was real.

His mouth went dry.

The television froze in place, Maria pausing mid-page turn, her finger hovering over the book. Time stopped. Time literally fucking stopped because this, this was it. This was his life.

He balled his fists.

“It’s been nice. You deserved this, you really, really did. And hey, Arsenal joined for the ride. Probably explains why exactly Dad isn’t here what-so-ever. Kinda fucked up, true.” He says, swallowing thickly. “But see, the thing is, I’m getting better at navigating my own head, so it was bound to happen. Cracking the illusion, I mean.”

He knows he’s babbling. But it's easier than crying or screaming. “You’d love Steve.” He continues. “He’s an old softie. I mean, seriously old. He teases me about relying on JARVIS and the computer, and everything possible. Technically, he teases and I get pissed, and then we bicker. But it’s okay cause he’s the best person to bicker with. I … I--”

Someone sets down a cup behind him. “How sickly sweet.”

He turns around slowly. Hela is staring at him, running her finger along the rim of one of his mother’s teacups.“A mind such as yours is a rarity, it’s true. Although it’s nothing to the muscle I wish you’d had. What to do I wondered? I figured giving you what you wanted meant you’d desist you’re pestering.”

“Gave me what I wanted?” He asks bitterly, unimpressed.

Hela scoffs. “A rare kindness.”

“An illusion.”

“Oh? May perhaps my specialty. I gave you your toy, certainly. An illusion,” Her lips cracked into a wicked smile, “never.”

“Never? So what then, I’m dead? It’d be my fucking luck.” He snaps.

“What else could you be?”

He can’t resist shrugging. “I don’t know, passed out again in the simulation room thanks to Clint’s arrows. I’ll be knocked awake and throw a barbecue in honour of the varyingly intense reasons of why I venomously hate magic.”

“I’m sure you will, once you choose.” She says, glancing at Maria.

“Choose? Choose what?” He’s suddenly very, very confused.

“I’m losing patience, mortal.”

“What, what--” The room is shrinking in on him while his breathing slows to standstill until he’s quite positive he’s suffocating. Good fucking, _fuck_ , did he hate magic, dead or goddamned fucking alive. He hated it.

Choosing is easy.  

But that’s not to say it’s the most painful thing he’s ever done.

 

\---

Tony sucks in a breath. His skin is molten hot, his ribs are aching, his throat is way too dry. Opening his eyes takes effort. The lights burn.

“Oh my god! He’s awake!” Someone shouts. He tilts his head to better hear, not trusting his vision. Someone cautiously grazes his arm; Someone is Clint.

“Tony!” Someone else joins in. Sam, it’s Sam.

Holy shit, did near death experiences always have to be this disorienting?  

He attempted to talk. Nope, no. That was painful too.

His vision slowly clears just in time to watch Natasha swoop in from behind Clint, ushering them out the door. “Be quiet. I doubt Stark appreciates the migraine all your shouting is giving him.”

“Crap, sorry,” Sam says sheepishly. “Didn’t mean to.”

Clint practically deflates, looking caught between excited and utterly terrified. “Nat, he literally was dead. Dead. Hello?”

“Out.”

Tony lapses between asleep and awake. He’s sure the hours are passing in leaps; two different nurses come in at varying times to check his vitals and change his iv bag. Natasha checks over him somewhere between.

He can’t remember any of his dreams, which is absolutely fantastic. Waking screaming wasn’t exactly pleasant when  you could barely move without searing pain shooting throughout your body at the slightest twitch.

He misses Steve. Did Steve miss him too?

_A silly thought._

He about the very last time he heard his mother play the piano.

When he opens his eyes again, there’s a weight against his side, and he can feel the warmth of Steve’s thumb caressing his palm of his hand.

“Hey sleepy head,” Steve says.

Tony tries for a smile. “Hey.” His voice is raspy from lack of use.

Steve gives him a bashful smile in return. “I’m glad you’re feeling better. It’s been a lonely couple of days without you.”

**Author's Note:**

> I was really inspired by the idea of Tony being unable to forget Steve, opting for a plot based on Tony being dead instead of Steve's prospective dealing with it. Thus, leading me here with this, which is sort of a blend the MCU and Avengers Assemble (they're basically based off each other as is honestly).  
> I did hope you enjoyed reading!!


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